Two Tied Down
by indianajones254
Summary: Lance Kilkenny rides to the aid of Nolan Sackett, who is in trouble and prevented from leaving by ties he's never had before.
1. The Letter

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the plot.

Two Tied Down

It was ten days from when he'd gotten the letter that Lance drew rein in front of the saloon in Shalako. The letter had been crudely written, but this didn't surprise Lance. Nolan Sackett never had been much hand at reading and writing. They'd met shortly after the trouble in the Mogollons when Nolan had ridden to the aid of his distant cousin, William Tell. Nolan was short of cash, and being a Clinch Mountain Sackett and not much on goodness anyway, he tried to rob a bank. It was his bad luck to pick the one with a café across the street, and he couldn't have known that Lance Kilkenny in that café. Kilkenny's suspicions had been aroused, and he crossed the street and entered the bank just as Nolan was about to draw his gun. The two had spoken briefly, just enough to let Nolan know that he didn't want to rob this particular bank. Lance loaned Nolan eating money, and a few weeks later, there had been a letter waiting for him, with a draft on the Bank of Arizona for twenty dollars, signed by Sackett. Now another letter had come. The letter was vague; all it had said was,

"_Lance, _

_I got my self into somthin I can't handle. Com to Shalako fast. Sackett."_

Kilkenny looked up and down the street before entering the saloon. He didn't have all that many friends, and with his well-deserved reputation as a gunfighter, there were plenty of people who would try to kill him for the notoriety that would come from beating the great Kilkenny in a stand-up shootout, not that many were that particular. Take Bill Hickok for an example, shot in the back by a coward who wanted the fame of killing Wild Bill. Lance tried to avoid shootings as often as possible, which was the main reason he almost never gave his full name, and he always left as soon as his name was known. Lance hated the reputation that came with a steady hand and a sure eye, but it was too late for him now, unless he went East, but he had no idea what he would do there for a living. It was an argument he'd had with himself many times. Regardless, Nolan Sackett had never been tied down to anything in his life, and if he had trouble, why not just light a shuck? That meant something or someone else was involved than Nolan couldn't leave. This could get interesting.


	2. Trent

Chapter 2

Kilkenny walked to the batwing doors of the saloon, glanced inside, then pushed the doors aside and walked to the bar. The bartender looked him up and down, recognizing him by his movements and bearing for what he was, and then poured Lance the requested beer. Lance took the beer and turned around to survey the room. As he stood there, a group of five riders with six horses drew up at the hitching post outside, paused for a moment to study his buckskin horse, then crowded into the saloon. All five of them ordered their drinks, then began to talk loudly among themselves.

"Tough luck about Big Jim. That Nolan drilled him dead center. Who'd'a known a durned farmer could shoot like that?" This from a stocky blond man the others referred to as Hank.

"Never mind the shooting, did you see that draw? I almost didn't. Man, that was fast! Who was that, anyway? Not any gunfighter I ever heard described."

"Could it have been Kilkenny? Nobody ever got a good description of him that I ever heard. He always leaves too fast after a shootin'."

Kilkenny spoke up. "No, that man was not Kilkenny. And you have heard of him. That was Nolan Sackett, from what you've said, the California-Nevada outlaw. And if you've got a lick of sense, you'd leave him alone."

"Sackett, huh? Never did hear his other name, he just always went by Nolan around town. Well, boys, this sounds like it's gonna be fun. I'll bet you ten dollars cash money I get him before any of you can. I can hear it now, Hank Milton, the man who killed Nolan Sackett. Won't that be somethin'?"

Kilkenny was irritated. "Who do you ride for, Milton?"

"Gary Hale, of the Rocking H. This Sackett stole our range, and he's bustin' it up with a durned plow, too. Him and that woman of his."

Now Kilkenny knew why Nolan had been forced to stay. Never one to have much money, Sackett must have sunk every dime he could beg, borrow, yes, or steal, into this farm. And a woman? That was unlike Sackett, who had always been a footloose type of man. Well, at least Kilkenny knew why he couldn't leave.

Hank spoke, disturbing Kilkenny's thoughts. "So just who are you, wantin' to know all this? You a friend of that Nolan?"

Kilkenny smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. "I've been called Trent. Seems like a good enough name. I'm siding Nolan Sackett. Tell Noonan that Trent is siding Sackett. Your boss knows me."

"Well, you don't look all that big and bad to me. Two guns, tied down? You trying to act tough or somethin'? Take 'em off and I'll whip you right down to your socks," Hank challenged.

Kilkenny unbuckled his gunbelt, and laid them on the bar. Hank did the same, then stepped towards Kilkenny. Lance moved quickly to meet him, smashing a left into Hank's face, knocking the bigger man back to crash into a table. He rose quickly, and threw a mighty roundhouse punch to Kilkenny's midsection, but Lance was no longer there. He stepped to the side to avoid the blow, then struck Hank in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, then grabbed him and threw him out the door and into the street, where he lay still. One of the others moved towards Kilkenny's guns, but the knife that pinned his sleeve to the bar stopped him before he ever saw Kilkenny throw it. Lance buckled his guns around his hips, dusted off his black, flat-crowned hat, placed it on his head, then turned to the remaining four Rocking H riders.

"You take him back to your boss. Tell him Trent is siding Sackett."


	3. Without Shooting?

Chapter 3

The four Rocking H riders rode into the yard of their home ranch, unsaddled and cared for their horses, taking their time, dreading to have to give the news to their boss. Finally, there were no more excuses, and they entered the house and told their tale. Gary Hale was a large man, like his brother in New Mexico had been. Unlike his brother, he had never learned that some people can't be pushed. His brother had paid for his pushing when the gunfighter Kilkenny had been one of those he was trying to push off of their mountain homesteads. Now he was faced with the same situation. Kilkenny was opposing him, along with Nolan Sackett, and Hale remembered what had happened when Van Allen's Lazy A outfit had tried to kill Tell Sackett. The whole Sackett family had come down around Allen's ears, and Tell had killed Van Allen in the showdown that had resulted. This was a bad spot to be in, but Gary Hale had never quit anything in his life, once he started, and he wasn't about to start now. Besides, he had men working for him that he figured could take Kilkenny, or Sackett, too, if it came to that. And if his men couldn't handle Kilkenny and Sackett, he could always hire someone else who could.

Kilkenny had trailed the Rocking H riders to their home ranch, then he returned to town, asking for directions to Nolan's farm. The storekeeper looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on Kilkenny's two tied-down guns, then muttered that he didn't know. Kilkenny was amused; obviously the storekeeper liked Sackett and didn't want to tell a potential enemy where to find him. Just then, a buckboard pulled up outside, and Nolan Sackett got down and entered the store. The storekeepers eyes went wide, but Nolan and Kilkenny were smiling and friendly as they shook hands.

"Can't say how glad I am to see you, Trent," Nolan said, smiling a little at the assumed name.

"You wrote you had trouble," Kilkenny replied. "I ran into some Rocking H riders who said they were running a man and his wife off their farm. That couldn't be you, could it? How did you ever wind up with a farm and a wife?"

"'Fraid it is, Trent. There was a small affair about some buried gold, and there was this girl… she never gave me a chance, Trent. But then, I guess I never really tried to get out, either. Matter of fact, I went back for her." Nolan shook his head at himself. "But Penny's the best thing that ever happened to me. I reckon I was tired of eating my own cooking anyway, and I've gotted used to this. I don't want to leave, Trent."

"I can understand that," Kilkenny replied. "So what's your idea for handling this? I don't think a shootout is best, so why'd you send for me? What about your family?"  
"I thought about that myself. I guess Tyrel might understand, but I agree. Shooting won't work here. They'll shoot it out, and I'll either go with them and maybe get killed, then where's Penny? Or I don't go, and feel guilty the rest of my life that I got a Sackett killed without being there my own self. But you, you're the best hand with a gun in the West, so they say. I don't think even Tyrel could beat you. But you're smart, too, and you'll try to find another way to do this. Tyrel might, but he's got Drusilla to worry about, and… damn it, Trent, this married stuff changes a man. I'm tired of killing."

Kilkenny agreed, thinking of Nita Kilkenny, nee Riordan, whom he had finally married after three separations. They now lived in San Francisco where Nita ran the Hotel Carlton. "I understand, Nolan. I think I may have an idea that'll get us out of this without a shooting. The Rocking H is in a valley. Good grass, water, all that, but the headquarters is up a ways into the valley, past that gap. If we were to blockade them, maybe we can stop this without any serious shooting."

"That just might work. It'd be tough, but I've sent for the US Marshal, and when he gets here, he can arrest Hale and take him to El Paso for trial. Then this whole thing'll be over. But the trick is to get up there before Hale can send for more gunmen," Nolan warned.

The two ex-gunfighters, both tied down to responsibility, both wearing two tied-down six-shooters, walked out into the street to put their plan into place.


	4. On the Road

Chapter 4

Kilkenny and Nolan loaded Sackett's supplies into his buckboard, then drove by Sackett's farm to drop them off and get some gear to last them while they besieged the Hale ranch. As they pulled up in the yard of Nolan's medium sized farmhouse, a young woman holding a shotgun came out onto the front porch. Nolan went to her, then turned to Kilkenny, a question in his eyes, wondering how to introduce his friend. Kilkenny stepped up onto the porch, removing his hat.

"Ma'am, my name is Lance. I'm a friend of Nolan's, and I'm going to try and get him out of this without a fight," he said.

"Mr. Kilkenny, I'm awfully glad to meet you. Yes, I know who you are, but I won't tell anybody about it, I've heard how you are about that. A friend of mine used to work for Miss Nita, and she described you. Besides, Nolan had dropped hints about who was coming," Penny Sackett informed him.

"All right, ma'am, but none of this mister stuff. You can call me Lance," Kilkenny insisted.

The three of them entered the house, and at Penny's insistence, sat down and ate supper. Then, as it was getting dark, Nolan and Lance saddled their horses, filling the saddlebags with food and ammunition. Then Nolan turned to Penny.

"I'll be back in a couple of days. Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to either of us. We'll be fine," he assured her.

"I know," she replied, and kissed him lightly, then he turned away, mounted his horse, and rode out of the yard to join the waiting Kilkenny. The two men turned towards the Hale ranch, hoping to arrive before full dark. As they approached, however, they heard riders on the road ahead of them. They turned off and concealed themselves in the brush at the side of the road.

"Probably Hale men," Nolan whispered.

Kilkenny agreed. "Leave the talking to me. You get back off the road a ways, and if shooting starts, you let them have it with that Winchester. Besides, they'll quit easier if they don't know how many of us there are, and besides, we'll have them boxed."

Nolan nodded, drew his rife from the scabbard, then moved off into the dark. As soon as the riders were in sight, Kilkenny called out.

"Hold it right there. Who are you and where are you going?"

"What's it to you?" a voice demanded.

"My name's Trent. If you're Hale men, you'd best turn around right now."

"We are Hale riders. And you're the one who'd better get while the getting's good," the voice replied. Kilkenny thought it was familiar.

"Is that you, Hale?" Kilkenny asked.

"Yes, it's me, _Kilkenny._"

"All right, so you know who I am. Will you go back or do I start shooting? I've got two six-guns and a rifle here, and you know I don't miss. You'll be the first man I shoot, Hale. It's time to put up or shut up."

Kilkenny could hear the murmurs from the Hale riders as they learned the identity of the man they faced. Kilkenny, the fastest man with a gun in the West, faster than Wes Hardin or Bill Hickok, and his accuracy was legendary. He wouldn't miss a shot, and they weren't ready to die just yet. Nor was Hale.

"All right, Kilkenny, we're going back. But you'd better clear out before daylight."

"Not going to happen, Hale. You're bucking a stacked deck. Nolan is a Sackett. You remember what happened to the Lazy A when they tried to kill a Sackett? Those mountain boys wiped them out. You'd best examine your hole card."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Kilkenny," Hale replied. Then the Hale riders turned and rode off back up the trail. Nolan returned from his post, and together he and Kilkenny followed them back to the ranch.


	5. With Shooting

Chapter 5

Kilkenny and Nolan trailed Hale and his riders back to the Rocking H. Then they proceeded to tumble large rocks and logs into the trail leading out of the small hole the ranch house was in. They settled in to wait. Occasionally someone would come out the door and try to slip off into the darkness, but a few rifle shots quickly discouraged that idea. As sunup approached, three riders could be seen in the distance, riding hard for the Hale headquarters. Kilkenny moved down to meet them. He stood in the road, waiting. Reaching down, he slipped the thong off his guns as the riders approached. If there was to be shooting, he wanted to be able to shoot back. The riders drew up about fifty feet in front of him.

"That's far enough," Kilkenny ordered.

The one in the center, a dark-haired man with a medium build, replied. "Just who are you, stopping us like this?"

"My name's Trent," Kilkenny replied. "Nobody goes through. You'd best turn right around and go back to wherever you came from. Hale's finished here. He won't be paying any fighting wages to anybody, so if you're here for that, then get out."

The man chuckled at that. "Mister, my name is John Baker. I assume you've heard of me?"

Kilkenny had. The man had a reputation as a fast man with a gun who loved to be pointed out. If one believed all the stories that were told about him, Baker had ridden with Quantrill during the War, then afterwards had continued the same sort of thing, robbing and looting, and supposedly had killed thirty men. Kilkenny didn't believe the number was half that, but the man was fast and accurate, no doubt about that.

"I've heard of you, Baker, a tinhorn who preys on the weak and the helpless, but who'll run from a ten-year-old boy with a peashooter. You can get out now, or you can be carried out, belly-down on the back of a horse headed for the nearest undertaker."

Baker's face went livid. He started to speak, then swore and grabbed for his gun. Kilkenny's hands slapped the butts of his twin Colt revolvers, then brought them up in a lightning draw. Baker was fast, too fast, for as Kilkenny raised his right-hand gun, Baker fired, but he was too quick and he missed that shot and never got another. Kilkenny shot him twice with his right-hand gun, as fast as he could pull the trigger, while turning his left-hand gun on the other two riders, who had also drawn their pistols. In a few seconds, it was all over. Baker was down, dying, and Kilkenny walked over and knelt beside him, examining his wounds, but there was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry, Baker. You could have left."

Up in the rocks, Nolan yelled. "Rider coming from the house, waving a white cloth. Looks like Hale, but he looks packed for a trip."

"All right," Kilkenny replied. "I'll go see what he wants."

Kilkenny gathered the reins of his buckskin, swung into the saddle, and rode to meet Hale. As they approached, Hale spoke.

"Kilkenny, I'm beat. I was a damn fool, and I guess you know it. All my riders are gone, left in the night. I guess you handled Baker?"

"Yes. He was just as fast as he was supposed to be, but he didn't make his first shot count."

"Kilkenny, I'm pulling up stakes and going to Wyoming. Tell Sackett that for me, will you? I've got everything I've got left here in my saddlebags. Times are changing, I guess, and I'll have to change with them. I don't know what I'll do with my place, I guess I'll sell it to somebody for enough of a stake to start over."

"I'll buy," Kilkenny told him. "Or Sackett will. He's got the money, he says. Quite a story, he says he found Nathan Hume's gold."

"Hume? That pack-train man who buried his gold shipment when the Comanches jumped him?"

"That's the one," Kilkenny confirmed.

Just then Nolan rode up. "Nobody at the ranch, Lance. What's the deal?"

"Nolan, you still got any of Hume's gold left?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Hale here is selling out, going to Montana. Figured you might want to buy his place."

Nolan turned to Hale. "How much will you take for it?"

Kilkenny left them to work out the details. It was a long ride back to San Francisco, and he wanted to get back to Nita.


End file.
